Intro:

E||--1-----------------------|--1-----------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|
B||-----------3--------1-----|-----------3--------1-----|--3--------1--------------|--3--------1--------------|
G||-----0--0-----0--0-----0--|-----0--0-----0--0-----0--|-----3--3-----3--3-----3--|-----3--3-----3--3-----3--|
D||--------------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|
A||--------------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|
E||--------------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|--------------------------|


   Dm  Em    Dm            C    Gm   Bb             Dm
An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth
       Dm         Em  Dm             C     Gm    Bb  Dm
Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow?
   Dm    Em    Dm               C   Gm     Bb               Dm 
O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool, still, passionlessly it quivereth
Dm         Em       Dm                     C Gm Bb    Dm
Minding not that my hands are more than apt,       my Muse

Gm       Bb          Dm                             C        Gm      Bb      Dm
Where is hidden the blue-huéd arch 'neath the High Heaven's rich  Em blazonry
     Gm         Bb       Dm                  C  Gm             Bb            Dm
The flowery meadow,  Em brac'd by the horizon, snowflakéd and aëry mountains
Gm  Bb       Dm                     C          Gm      Bb     Dm
In which the barebreastéd maidens dance to the lay o'midsummer
Gm         Bb           Dm                  C    Gm      Bb Dm
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vainglore

( Gm Bb Dm C Gm Bb Dm )

Dm                            F            Eb                    
O Canvas, wherefore canst thou these images not allow?
Dm                  F             Eb
I de Em  a projection of my Theatre they should be
Dm                               F            Eb
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o' mine
Db                             F                     Eb
What is this unforseen that not enjoineth light shades to bes killfully paintéd?

( Gm Bb Dm C Gm Bb Dm )

Gm  Bb         Dm                        C Gm             Bb      
The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds
    Dm                                    Gm                Bb
Unadornéd the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood
    Dm                               C    Gm           Bb
The maidens chainéd and whippéd within a dreary dungeon
                     Dm
And, lo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave:
Gm    Bb         Dm                   
"The Devil is as Black as he Painteth." 
Gm Bb      Dm  
O Canvas! wherefore?
Gm    Bb         Dm                   
"The Devil is as Black as he Painteth." 
Gm Bb      Dm  
O Canvas! wherefore?